


Lab Partners

by Jump_ship



Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Growing Old Together, M/M, Slice of Life, grumpy scientists, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27524914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jump_ship/pseuds/Jump_ship
Summary: A brief moment between our favourite grumpy scientists
Relationships: Phineas Welles/Anton Crane
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Lab Partners

**Author's Note:**

> This was a response to a tumblr prompt - Growing old together - that I got a little carried away with. As there's no Anton Crane content on here yet I figured I'd show the guy some love. 
> 
> Thanks to the-laridian on tumblr for the prompt. If you're interested in more Outer Worlds content, mostly consisting of thirsting over Phineas, then give me a follow on there. You can find me at jumpship90

Anton huffed and puffed, brow furrowed in frustration as he rummaged through a pile of notes. He tossed aside empty saltuna cans and the debris of various experiments, doing his best not to knock over anything corrosive as he did so. Good law but his partner was messy. It didn’t matter whether it was discarded test tubes in the laboratory or dirty socks in the bedroom, the man was incapable of tidying up and Anton often found himself losing his patience with that particular quirk.

There was a crash as precariously stacked automech parts tumbled to the deck. The noise left Anton’s ears ringing and he clutched at his head. There was a distinct ache just beginning to pulse behind his eyes.

“What _are_ you doing?”

He glanced up, still kneading at his temple. Phineas stood over him, one imperious eyebrow arched and hands-on hips as he surveyed the mess.

“I am _trying_ to find the soldering iron. It appears to have been mislaid. Again.”

Phineas’ other brow followed the first one up as he registered the accusation. Anton rose to his feet, joints crackling and popping as he did. That had been happening more often as of late and it frustrated him almost as much as the dull ache in his fingers at the end of a long day in the lab. Aging was a natural process, he reminded himself, and not one all citizens of Halcyon were fortunate enough to experience. Still, that didn’t make the effects any easier to ignore.

“Funny how that always happens when you’re the last to use it,” he added with a pointed look in Phineas’ direction.

Phineas gave a sharp laugh. “Don’t look at me you cantankerous old git, you’re the one who left the Bunsen-burner on last week. Losing your marbles as well as your memory?”

Anton harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest. That had happened one time and only because he had been rudely interrupted.

“I’ll have you know I have all my faculties intact, unlike yourself, Doctor Welles. I believe it was you that left the door to the supplies unlocked and allowed Bubbles to gorge herself silly on bred noodles.”

Phineas scowled. He knew he was in trouble when Anton referred to him by his title.

They’d long since given up on formalities, even in the lab. There hadn’t been a lot of point in continuing the ruse after Jameson had walked in on the two of them celebrating a successful experiment with a kiss that definitely could not have been passed off as merely comradely. Their relationship had been an open secret ever since, and as neither of them ever allowed it to get in the way of their work – or an academic row – none of their fellow scientists mentioned it if they happened to notice that the two stood rather closer than necessary when comparing notes or arrived at the lab each morning together, bickering and sharing a canteen of coffee.

“Perhaps you’ve tucked it away in a drawer somewhere along with all my socks. You know I haven’t been able to find a pair in days?”

Anton sighed. He knew that Phineas’ mess was actually a rather complex filing system that made little sense to anyone other than the aging scientist and he truly did struggle when Anton attempted to clean up. The problem being that Anton himself required meticulous storage and precise labels and absolutely no clutter in order to work. They mostly agreed to simply keep to their own work benches and not disturb the other’s process. It helped keep the peace in the lab and at home.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled. “Maybe one of the lab techs took it.”

He pressed his fingers to his forehead again, shutting his eyes briefly. The strip lights in the lab were much too bright, though he couldn’t recall when he had started noticing that.

“Perhaps if you frowned less often you wouldn’t always have such a headache.”

Phineas’ words were brusque but the soft pads of his fingers brushed Anton’s aside and settled at his temples, soothing.

“And perhaps if you didn’t always scowl at me, you wouldn’t have quite so many wrinkles.”

The lines at corners of Phineas’ eyes deepened at that but Anton could read the mirth in them. Phineas liked to tease him about his routine of creams and ointments and tinctures, all meticulously applied in an effort to stave off his slowly deepening furrows. He was fighting a losing battle of course but Phineas professed not to care. Which was just as well given the scientist’s once curly grey hair had thinned and faded to white in recent years.

“Do you want me to help you find the soldering iron or not?” Phineas chided.

Anton rolled his eyes to the heavens with a sigh. “Yes, dear.”

Phineas chuckled and after a quick peck to the cheek, shuffled away to begin rummaging through the mess.


End file.
